A very quiet Easter Sunday here in Texas.  I spent the soft, gray Sunday morning writing, answering email, and working on an extra materials piece for the trade paperback edition of Necessary as Blood.  Then on to tax prep, with breaks to help Rick repair winter weather damage to our sprinkler system.  We had take away (not home-made!) pizza for Easter dinner.  Not very traditional, but a nice day, nonetheless, with a bit of reflection.  I sat out on the deck, sipping a late afternoon cup of Buckingham Palace Garden Party tea with the dogs and their buddy Tink, the cat.  This was a nice lull before the storm of the next few days, preparing for Thursday’s departure for a month in the UK and Germany.

I’ll spend a few days in London recovering from the inevitable jet lag, then off to Germany on the 13th for a tour promoting the German edition of Necessary as Blood.  Munich, Hamburg, Stuttgart, and Hanover–this is my first tour in Germany and I’m very excited to see new cities and meet German fans.  NAB is #12 on the bestseller list in Germany this week!

Then I’ll be back in London for two and a half weeks, getting a much needed Brit fix and writing like mad.  Last stop is three days in Henley, doing a last bit of research for the book-in-progress, No Mark Upon Her.

Now that I’m all connected (blog, Facebook) I’ll post from the road.

Happy Easter, everyone!

A lovely lady from the Friends of the Library took me for a welcoming drink at the Pelican Landing.  We hoped to see the sun set, but it was too cloudy.  I did, however, enjoy the Pelican Punch, and I got a great shot of the bridge opening over the Intercoastal Waterway.

Tomorrow I’m speaking to five hundred high school students, so I’m hoping they will be kind, and that the sun will shine.

Then, tonight, watching the Oscars, I saw the clip where Stanley Tucci, playing Mr. Harvey, lures Susie into his underground den in the cornfield, and I had the most bizarre flashback.  I had a recurring nightmare as a small child.  We lived in the country then, with pasture in front of the house and a creek with steep banks that curved around three sides in the back.  In my dream, I was walking along the creek when I discovered a fireplace-like opening in the side of the bank.  Curious, I went in, and found myself in a cozy underground room.  There were small, bald (sorry, Stanley!) gnome-like men who invited me to tea.  And then–the worst horror my four or five-year-old mind could conjure–ate me.  (Yeah, I’m sure the psychologists could have lots of fun with that.  And this, of course, was the point at which I would wake up screaming.)

Years later, when I read the Narnia books for the first time, I thought that the bankside den of my dream was a little like a warped version of Mr. Tumnus’s home.  But now I see that the set designer for The Lovely Bones must have had a sneak pass into my subconscious, because Mr. Harvey’s den was snatched whole right out of my dream.

How very odd, and a little unsettling.  Do children come equipped with an atavistic fear of caves?  Some sort of Jungian archetype, perhaps?  Silly, maybe, but I’d just as soon not revisit my own particular childhood demons.  But I may have to read Alice Sebold’s novel.

But today is a catch up, although I think we could slip most of it into The Writing Process.  The thirteenth book in the Kincaid/James series, Necessary as  Blood, was released in the US on October 6th.  I had a whirlwind few weeks of promotion, where I got to speak to lots of lovely people and visit some of my favorite bookstores, particularly The Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale, Arizona, Murder by the Book in Houston, Texas, and the fab new independent store in Plano, Texas, Legacy Books.  I attended Bouchercon (and a great job was done by the folks in Indianopolis) where Where Memories Lie was awarded the Macavity for Best Novel 2009 (for books published the previous year) by Mystery Readers International.

It’s been an exciting couple of months.  Necessary as Blood made the New York Times Extended Best Seller List for the week of October 25 at #34.  This was my first time to make the New York Times list, so much excitement all round!  NAB (as we will now abbreviate) also made the IMBA Bestseller List for October at #3, and the Dallas Morning News Hardcover Fiction List at #1 for the week of November 1st.  First #1!!!!

And then, of course, it’s on to the next book, so I have been in London for the last few weeks writing and doing research on the not-yet-officially titled Book #14.  So more to come–Live From London!

And as for books, for all of you who have asked, yes, there is a new Duncan-and-Gemma in the works.  It’s called Necessary as Blood, and is set in London’s East End.  I hope to finish the manuscript the end of January, and stay on schedule for a summer ‘09 publication.  I think I’ve survived the mid-book doldrums (that stage where you think “why did I ever think this was a good idea for a book?”) and have now outlined the remainder of the book, chapter and scene.  That’s exhilarating, as you begin to see that all the pieces really will fit together, and the book takes on its own momentum.

In the meantime, I’ve had many nice comments on Where Memories Lie, which will publish in Germany in April and in the UK in summer ‘09.  Where Memories Lie is now out in audio from Recorded Books in the US, and Jenny Sterlin does a wonderful job of narrating.

On the travel front, I’ll be home (WRITING) for the next few months.  In February I’ll be attending Murder in the Magic City in Birmingham, Alabama, as co guest of honor with William Kent Krueger, and in March I’ll be appearing on an all-British panel at an author’s luncheon for the Anaheim Public Library Foundation in  Anaheim, California.  Last I heard, other guests included the lovely Jacqueline Winspear and Rhys Bowen, two of my favorite authors.

Then in April I will be in the UK, doing research for the next, as yet untitled, Duncan-and-Gemma–#14!  And this time maybe I really will manage to keep up a real-time blog.  This is, after all, the season of resolutions!  And I promise to update my web page!!

We start the new year with a new addition to our family, a kitten whose name is still in question.  Rick insists that cats need to name themselves, so we are waiting for her to tell us.  That, by the way, is why we have cats named Jolly and Squidgy.  Our oldest cat, Bootie (and no, we were not responsible for that one) died in June.  This kitten needed a home, and we had an empty cat space.  She was a barn kitten and is still fairly shy, but I suspect that within a few months she will be running the household.  She’s already discovered that my laptop keyboard makes a nice place to nap.

And while we may not manage snow in our part of Texas for Christmas, the sleet this last week at least gave us a photo op for a White Christmas.

So here’s wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas, a happy New Year, and many good books in the days to come!!!

August is fast approaching, and that means it’s time for the Edinburgh International Festival, one of the world’s foremost celebrations of art, dance, and music. And with the Festival comes the Fringe, an alternative festival launched in 1947, the same year as the Edinburgh Festival, with the mission of allowing access to all performers. Now the Fringe rivals the Festival itself, and is THE place to see the quirky, the innovative, and the laugh-out-loud funny.

This year my London-based photographer friend, Steve Ullathorne, is exhibiting a new series of photographs at The Gilded Balloon, one of the Fringe’s foremost venues. Restyles of the Dead and Famous are twisted tweaks of the Blue Plaque bearing London homes of the dead and gone – from Jane Austen to Oscar Wilde via Thomas Crapper and George Orwell. The Scotsman’s Claire Smith calls Steve “the Annie Leibowitz of comedy,” and these irreverent images are the proof of the pudding.

But if you can’t get to Edinburgh, and you find yourself in London on a Saturday, have a wander down Portobello Road. At Tavistock Road, just before the Westway, on most Saturdays you’ll find Steve selling his London prints from his market stall. From the whimsical (London Policeman), to the sublime (my favorite photo of the Albert Bridge), the photos are fabulous. And you’ll be following in fictional footsteps.

On the Road Again seems doubly appropriate, as I’ll be driving across Iowa, Nebraska, and Kansas, a mini-adventure. I’ve asked my terrific publicist at Harper Collins to make sure I have a car with sat nav, as if I get lost in the cornfields I may never be seen again. And I’d better start making those road trip CDs.

And then on August 11th I’ll be flying to the UK, where on the 13th I’ll be attending a Literary Event in Ludlow, Shropshire, organized by my friend Kate Charles, and featuring nine authors. (More info to follow.) August 15-17th I’ll be in Oxford at St. Hilda’s College Mystery and Crime Conference, but as a guest this time rather than as a speaker. I’m very much looking forward to a weekend of visiting with friends and listening to great talks on mystery. After Oxford, it’s back to London for sixteen days, where I’ll be staying in the East End, the setting of the next book, Necessary as Blood.

Then October 9-12th I’ll be in Baltimore at Bouchercon 2008, Charmed to Death, a terrific event.

And in between all this traveling (and while on the road) I’ll be working on the new Duncan and Gemma novel, but more about that next time . . .

Yesterday was the 134th running of the Kentucky Derby, and Derby day is a small ritual for me.  My father, who died in May of 2003, loved racing.  For a number of years when I was growing up, my parents owned a second home in Arkansas, and we always caught a part of the thoroughbred racing season in Hot Springs, and sometimes the Arkansas Derby, one of the big prep races for the Kentucky Derby.  My father wasn’t a true gambler; he made a small carefully worked out bet on each race because he liked to study the form, and if he came out ahead at the end of the day, he considered it a bonus to the pleasure of the outing.  From him I learned to study the horses in the paddock, and to stand at the rail at the finish, as close as I could get to the smells and sounds and motion as the horses tore by.

And I was a horsey child, fed on Black Beauty and Marguerite Henry’s King of the Wind, dreaming of Walter Farley’s Black Stallion, photos of Man of War and Secretariat taped to my bedroom walls.  Then in my teens (when the horse pictures came down and the rock stars went up)  I discovered Dick Francis, an irresistible combination of horses AND mystery, and thereafter bought every new release to share with my dad.  My father never managed to get to Churchill Downs for the Run for the Roses, but we always watched the Derby together, and the Preakness, and the Belmont, and against the odds we always hoped for a Triple Crown winner.

I’m both sorry and glad that he missed yesterday’s race, for it  was glorious and devastating: Big Brown, the favorite, romped across the finish as if he’d been for an outing in the park, and looks as if he might be the first horse to capture all three races in thirty years, since Affirmed took home the Crown in 1978.  But Eight Belles, the only filly in the race, finished a game second, then broke down and collapsed on the track.  Both her front ankles were fractured and she was immediately euthanized.  My father would have felt the loss of this beautiful horse deeply, as do I, but he would have looked forward to the next two races with undimmed enthusiasm, as will I.

And in the meantime, if I decide I prefer Pimms No. 1 Cup to mint juleps, and if I occasionally slip up and say "darby" rather than "derby", a little cross-cultural confusion only adds to the fun.  (And I can wear a silly hat at a horse race on either side of the Pond.)

The Orangery is tucked away behind Kensington Palace, and has its own beautifully landscaped gardens. What better way to while away an hour or so, drinking tea, writing, and gazing out the windows. Except the park and day beckoned, as did this little door set into what I think must be the nether regions of the palace itself. There is nothing more intriguing to the imagination than a door marked PRIVATE.

And then the park . . . I debated over which photo to include, because no photo can do justice to Hyde Park on a sunny–if cold and a bit windy–spring afternoon. I’m not sure that such a thing is meant to be recorded, but must, I think, be experienced. Babies toddling in the bright green grass; bikers biking (although I’d prefer they not be the mad ones that run you down if you’re not careful); benches to be sat upon and deck chairs to be lounged in; dogs running off lead, chasing balls and squirrels, real or imaginary. And although I’m not sure it’s allowed, there should be small boys and girls sailing wooden boats on the Round Pond.

There are daffodils and bluebells and grape hyacinths in the grass, the camelias are fading, the rhodedendrons just coming into bloom, the buds unfurling on tender trees and roses, and all the human faces are living sunflowers, turned towards the light. Glorious indeed.

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But with the usual capriciousness of London weather, by the time I had walked from the bottom of Portobello Road back up the hill, the sun had come out, and I was able to snap this shot of a magenta door on Kensington Park Road, with yellow forsythia in bloom in the garden. The photo is deceptive, however, as it looks like a lovely spring day, but it was still ferociously cold.

By the next Saturday, spring had made a bit more progress, as you can see from this shot taken at the intersection of Portobello Road and Chepstow Villas, where Portobello Market really begins.

A false promise once again, however, because by the time I’d got half way down Portobello, it had started to rain and blow, and while not as cold as the previous Saturday, the wind turned my umbrella wrong side out and broke it–a common London hazard, and I ended the afternoon soaked, looking like a drowned rat, and desperately in search of warmth and TEA!

Still, it was Portobello, and not to be missed, weather be damned!